Stuck
by stripeypirate
Summary: John and Sam's constant fighting is taking a toll on Dean (pre-series). Rated for language.


Dean sat idly flipping through the pathetic selection of TV channels, trying to find one that wasn't too fuzzy. John had been gone almost a week now, a good four days longer than expected. Dean hadn't been outside the past two, choosing instead to hover by the telephone. _Just in case. _He tossed the remote aside in disgust and decided to renew his prowling, back and forth across the cramped space. Every few steps he'd drop and do a few push-ups. Sam glared at him over the top of his biology textbook, but kept his mouth shut. The strain of waiting was even starting to bother the younger, more patient Winchester. Dean wished for the thousandth time that John had taken him along on this one, but he'd been ordered to stay behind with Sam. Again. _Damn kid's sixteen. He can look after himself. Besides, looks like Dad could've used some backup on this one after all._ Dean threw a couple punches at his shadow, feeling an electric tingle of pain crawl up his spine when his knuckles grazed the wall. _We're running out of cash. If dad doesn't get come home soon…_The door to the motel room clicked shut, followed by the muffled thump of a heavy bag dropping to the floor. The faint, sickly smell of John Winchester's good friend Jack rolled into the room. _Speak of the devil. _Sam rose from his seat at the kitchen table, eyes flashing angrily. _And cue fireworks. _

"So you're back, then." Sam's tone was terse and clipped, but Dean could tell from the slight tremors in his shoulders and the way the muscle was twitching in his jaw that Sam was barely in control.

John merely grunted, turning his back on his son's as he rifled through the fridge.

"Nice to know you're alive." A more direct challenge.

"Cut it out, Sammy," he hissed, crossing the room in a few long strides in a belated attempt to avoid the inevitable collision.

John swung around, beer in hand. He rolled his shoulders like a boxer getting ready for a match. "Yeah, I'm alive. And you know who else is? Gloria Payne and her three daughters. The father didn't make it, though. Got smeared across the kitchen floor. So you can stop being such a smartass and maybe think about what we sacrifice for this job. "

_God, here we go again. _

"Oh you want to talk about sacrifice?" Sam's cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright with anger. "What about me and Dean?! You drag us around like your dirty laundry from case to case. Ever since we were little kids we've had to look out for each other because YOU weren't around. Hell, maybe Dean would've graduated from high school if you didn't put all this hunting crap on him."

"Wow Sam, it's not like I'm in the room or anything," Dean muttered sarcastically. He pasted a goofy grin on his face "C'mon guys, it's Friday night. Let's order a pizza, find a western on TV…" He trailed off as he realized that neither party was paying him any attention. _Well this is gonna be friggin awesome. _

Sam continued, the words tumbling from his mouth uncontrollably. "Are you saying that you'll put some random stranger's kids before your own?"

_Dammit Sam, why did you have to go there?_

John slammed his hand down on the table with such force that both boys jumped. When he finally spoke, his voice was deadly and low. "Come again?"

Sam blanched for a second before knitting his eyebrows together and strengthening his resolve. "You heard me."

The table flipped over with a thunderous crash, sending textbooks tumbling across the floor. John advanced until he was towering over Sam, breathing loud and heavy like a bull. _And I'm the fucking matador _Dean thought as he tried to physically insert himself between the two warring parties, but John reached out and placed a firm hand on his elder son's chest.

"Stay out of this Dean," a voice hissed behind him.

_Sammy?_ Dean stepped back, stunned. He'd never seen his younger brother's eyes so full of fire and venom. His whole body was tense, fingers tapping against his thighs in rapid-fire rhythm.

"This isn't your problem. You don't need to protect me," he spat before turning back to glare at John. "In fact, you probably wouldn't need to watch out for me in the first place if SOMEONE was around more often."

John bristled and for a split second it looked like he would strike Sam, but instead he curled his fingers into fists, so tight that Dean could see blood beading where his nails were digging into his palm. "Did it ever occur to you that I do this because I don't want to come home to find you PASTED ON THE FUCKING CEILING?! Until we find this… _thing _that killed your mother, how am I gonna know that it won't come back for you boys? I'm doing it for your own good, dammit. At least Dean understands that!"

"Yeah cuz we're so safe chasing werewolves on the weekend. And how about that time CPS got called because a gym teacher noticed all the bruises on Dean's legs from when a poltergeist beat the shit out of him? Oh wait, that happened to me too. Maybe what I want is to live a normal freaking life where I can go to soccer practice instead of weapons training."

"You want normal? Well sorry kid, but that just ain't gonna happen. Normal died a long time ago. For all of us."

Dean let the words flow over him as John and Sam began yet again, standing toe-to-toe, screaming until their faces flushed and eyes bulged. It was becoming a familiar scenario. Although the exact wording differed, Dean could recite the argument by heart. All the while he stood limp and useless as a wet noodle, watching the two people closest to him tear each other to shreds.

_Ungrateful brat_

… _holding me back_

_Why can't you be more like your brother?_

_Maybe I don't want to be a hunter_

_The family business…._

He was a kite in a storm, buffeted back and forth. Used alternately as a weapon and a shield. An invisible spirit. _No wonder they get pissed and start ganking people. _Finally the voices reached a fever pitch, the room boiling with heat and tension.

"Enough!" Dean heard himself shout, a desperate plea that sounded unfamiliar to his own ears. "Can you just stop, for once? Please…" He felt warmth prickling behind his lashes. _Can't you see what you're doing to me? _John and Sam stared at him in dull surprise, as if they were comprehending his existence for the first time.

The silence was heavy and deafening. The air felt stifling, bursting with electricity like the middle of a summer thunderstorm. Dean knew he had to get out or he would explode. Six-pack in one hand and keys in the other, he tore a path to the Impala. Once safely enclosed, he let out a long, slow breath as if purging the toxic atmosphere of the motel from his body.

"Where to now, Baby?" Dean sighed as he popped open the first can, downing it in a few large gulps before tossing it nonchalantly out the window. Despite everything, he couldn't help but grin a little as the Impala purred to life under his touch.

* * *

Moonlight shimmered down on a deserted field, illuminating the young man stretched out on the hood of his car. Zeppelin blared from the speakers, disturbing the otherwise peaceful night. Three more beer cans lay crumpled in the grass. Dean stared up at the vast night sky, letting the alcohol warm him and the music pulse through his bones. Sometimes he'd cruise the bars, picking up chicks for a quick and easy fuck. Forget how lonely and desperate he was. For a while. Tonight however, he felt the exhaustion seeping into his pores. _I'm sick of this. _The stars blurred in front of his eyes and he clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms until his vision cleared. _I'm not some goddamn bone to fight over. _He knew Sam was pulling away. Ever so slowly he was distancing himself from the life that they shared. Dean knew that one day he'd wake up and his brother would be gone. Off on the path to apple pie and picket fences. That pleased Dean, in a vague far-away sense. Sammy would be safe and happy. Closer to his heart though, he felt a searing loss.

"I thought you'd be here."

Dean started, cursing as his drink spilled over the sleek black surface. "Dammit Sam! How the hell'd you find me?"

The younger boy shrugged, embarrassed. "It's just the kind of place you like to go when dad and I…" he trailed off. "Look, I'm really sorry-"

Dean held up a hand to stop him. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Baby and me, we're just spending some quality time together." He patted the hood affectionately, but his words sounded hollow.

Sam grunted, pushing through his flat palms as he heaved himself up next to Dean. His older brother tossed him a beer, which he rolled distractedly from hand to hand but didn't open. Sam exhaled deeply, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly air.

"I'm leaving."

"I know."

Sam turned, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah, don't look so shocked. You're not as sneaky as you think. I saw all those college pamphlet thingies in your backpack," Dean paused, "do you really think you've got a shot?"

Sam shrugged noncommittally. "The guidance counselor of the month seems to think so. I mean, I've still got another year of high school left but my SATs were pretty good."

"How good?"

The younger boy laughed. "Dude, did you even take those?"

"Nahhh," Dean reached over and clumsily attempted to ruffle his brother's hair, "I already knew at that point I was gonna end up leaving to hunt. 'Sides, you've got the brains and I've got the brawn. Natural order of things.

Sam ducked, annoyance flashing across his face. "Cut the crap Dean! You always play the doofus card but we both know you're smarter than that. You should be IN college right now, if dad hadn't-"

"Don't start that again."

"Sorry."

The brothers sat in silence for a moment before Sam cleared his throat. "I, uh wanted to say that this whole mess with Dad… It'll get better when I leave. And um, I'm not trying to abandon you guys or anything; I just need to live my own life. I'm not like you and Dad. I don't think I'm cut out to be a hunter." His eyes begged Dean to understand.

_How can I let you leave on your own, with all the shit that's out there? It's my goddamn job to watch your back. Always has been. What am I gonna do without you, Sammy?_

Instead he asked, "Are you gonna finish that?"

Sam glanced down at the unopened beer warming in his hands. "No," he finally replied, blowing air loudly through his nose like he always did when he was frustrated. His slid the can over to Dean, who promptly fumbled, dropping it onto the grass.

"You're lucky I didn't drink that. Someone's gotta drive your drunk ass home. Now give me the keys."

"Shut up." Dean forced himself to smile, feeling his facial muscles stretch tightly.

Sam shoved him affectionately, sending him tumbling onto the ground.

They both chuckled for a moment as Dean flipped Sam the bird before attempting to brush himself off.

"I'm gonna miss you y'know," Sam murmured, suddenly serious.

"Aw geez, don't go soft on me man. You know me, I'll be fine. As long as I've got a job, a chick and a beer. An' Baby of course," he added as an afterthought.

Sam nodded, but continued to stare down at his hands resting in his lap. "Alright, let's go. I don't need to give Dad another reason to bust my ass." He froze, "you swear you won't tell him what I said about leaving, right?"

"'Course," Dean hauled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "Scouts honor."

_And here I am, stuck in the middle again, counting down the months until you go. You'll never know what it's like, Sammy. _

_I'm always fine. _


End file.
